


Deep Sea Diving II: Desperate and Devouring

by AidaRonan



Series: Deep Sea Diving [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Anal Sex, Author is fat, Banter, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Butt Plugs, Come Swallowing, Come Swapping, Comedy, Fat Bucky, Light Dom/sub, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Sex Toys, Shrunkyclunks, Top Steve Rogers, Valentine's Day, Very Brief Rimming, Voyeurism, fashionista Bucky, very probably needed more lube but -hand wave-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22713259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidaRonan/pseuds/AidaRonan
Summary: It's been almost seven months since Bucky strolled by Steve in "thirst trap" booty shorts and ruined his life for the better. Now it's Valentine's Day, and if they can make it past the horrors of too-small fancy restaurant portions, they just might have a lovely (and smoldering) evening together.(See notes for a SparkNotes version of Part I if for some reason you don't wanna go back and read it.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Deep Sea Diving [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633489
Comments: 41
Kudos: 438





	Deep Sea Diving II: Desperate and Devouring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltyCalm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyCalm/gifts).



> For Avery Val, who loves this iteration of Bucky perhaps even more than I do. 
> 
> ___
> 
> Summary of Part I for those who don't wanna go back/need a quick refresher: 
> 
> Steve's miserable in high summer for serum reasons and is convalescing with Nat at the park when Fat!Bucky walks by in red "thirst trap" booty shorts and a crop top, obscenely sipping a strawberry frap. Steve is immediately [eyes emoji]. Steve manages to walk across the hot, hot (oh god, why is it so hot?) park to talk to Bucky, if you can call it that. Some terrible bi disaster flirting ensues. Steve gets a hotel room so they can both escape the heat and make some heat of their own. In the mean time, Steve realizes he feels extremely comfortable and safe being himself around Bucky, which is definitely a good basis for attempting to date someone. And then here we are, seven months later with our two love birds solidly in love and trying to celebrate.

They’re in the kind of restaurant where you have to wear a jacket to even get seated. Bucky doesn’t mind so much. Striving to dress like the hot shit he knows he is doesn’t have to mean 24/7 booty shorts and crop tops, especially in mid-February.

Bucky can just as easily be one whole meal in skinny leg charcoal slacks and a well-tailored floral blazer with embroidered gold accents. The see-through mesh shirt underneath doesn’t hurt either, even if he had put an undershirt beneath it, seeing as when he’d Googled the restaurant before meeting Steve there, he’d kind of figured they might frown upon seeing his nipples.

Even if Steve would’ve drooled all over his excessive amount of forks.

Of course, the other reason he doesn’t mind so much is because he’s seen Steve in a suit. He’s wearing a plain black number tonight that hugs every delicious curve of muscle, with a floral silk tie that matches Bucky’s jacket. It would, considering Bucky lent it to him.

“What sounds good?” Steve asks, because he always gets plate envy when Bucky’s food comes out. Bucky’s never quite understood why since Steve’s metabolism runs so fast that he always ends up ordering another entree anyway, even if it’s to-go.

“Chicken piccata, I think,” Bucky says. “Maybe the raspberry bread pudding.”

“Appetizers?” Steve flips backwards in the menu, frowns, and says, “What is the fucking deal with everyone in this time deconstructing everything? Deconstructed bruschetta. Isn’t that just toasted bread and tomatoes?”

“Do you want it though?” Bucky grins into his own menu.  
  
“Yeah, kinda.”

“There’s always the special. Heart-shaped cheese plate.”

“No law saying we can’t order both.” Steve shrugs and closes his menu. “Besides maybe I want some cheese on my some-assembly-required bruschetta.”

They order two appetizers, two salads, two main courses, and two desserts. Bucky eats each plate, lovingly watching the frown lines on Steve’s forehead deepen with every delivery from the kitchen, his eyebrows very nearly touching when they get their desserts—bread pudding for Bucky and black tie cheesecake for Steve.

The bread pudding is the size of hotel soap, and Steve’s cheesecake is a single round circle that looks like it could fit in a shot glass. It’s par for the course (courses?) for the evening. Everything they’ve been served so far has been a ridiculously small portion, so that even with two appetizers and three different plates, Bucky feels like he’s maybe had a snack.

“For the record, you don’t have to bring me places like this,” Bucky says. “Not to say I don’t appreciate you bringing me to a nice restaurant where we can pretend we’re fancy and don’t eat street food and dollar pizza like real New Yorkers.”  
  
Steve looks up from being upset over desserts and takes Bucky’s hand on the table. It’s automatic for him to reach for the prosthetic given that he’s reaching with his right hand, and Bucky doesn’t mind. It’s a part of him, and Steve has always respected his boundaries with it and never treated it like something to be avoided, nor has he ever treated it like some kind of fetish—Bucky’s past tired of being a fetish, whether it’s men wanting to watch him eat until he bursts or men wanting to involve his arm in sex in ways that he isn’t comfortable with.

Or sometimes both.

“Just never had a real long-term relationship before,” Steve says. “Or a Valentine for that matter. Can’t blame a fella for wanting to do something special for my best guy.” Steve gives him one of those dopey, earnest smiles that never fail to make Bucky’s brain go, ‘Yep, it’s this one forever, you found him and he’s an idiot.’

Bucky smiles back.

“I do feel pretty special,” Bucky says, “and at least they pour the right amount of wine, which since they don’t feed you...”

He raises his glass in Steve’s direction and downs the rest before eating his few bites of bread pudding. By then, Steve’s already done with his cheesecake, pulling bills out of his wallet and tucking them under the glass water bottle.

After putting his wallet back into his jacket, he gets up and comes around the table to pull Bucky’s chair out for him  
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Steve says quietly before kissing Bucky softly right behind the ear. Then he adds possibly the most romantic phrase in the English language. “Felafel on the way home?”

And so they get felafel and hot dogs from a street vendor within spitting distance of the restaurant. The walk home is spent swapping bites and laughing so hard that it hurts, and they have to pull over on the sidewalk to avoid getting cursed at while they finish wheezing.

Later, Bucky can’t even remember what was so funny, just that he’d never give up the image of Steve Rogers doubled over against the bodega, unable to catch his breath.

He thought about it over and over until he was sure it was stuck in his brain forever.

* * *

“Next year, we’ll stay in and order food from all the places we have menus for and keep meaning to try but haven’t yet,” Steve says, opening the door to his brownstone and holding it for Bucky.

“Next year, huh?” Bucky teases.

“Next year.” Steve says, firmer this time. “I’m in this, Buck. You ever want out, you’ll have to be the one doing the heartbreaking.”

Bucky goes quiet, reaching over and straightening Steve’s tie even though they’re inside and it’ll probably be coming off in the next few minutes anyway.

“I’m in it too, Steve,” Bucky says, letting Steve take him by the jaw, one of his thumbs sliding gently over the dimple in Bucky’s double chin.

There are, as far as Bucky’s knowledge goes, three categories of Steve Rogers kisses. He has personally experienced two.

Those two are as follows:

1\. Devouring. Steven Grant Rogers of Brooklyn, New York does nothing by halves, Bucky has learned. That includes lust. When he wants, he really, really, _really_ wants, and there’s nothing like being on the receiving end of a kiss borne out of that, of having Steve lick hot into his mouth and make him feel so absolutely needed that he might combust with it.

2\. Desperation. Like lust, Steve doesn’t love by halves either. Bucky can remember the first time he got one of these types of kisses, how it felt to have Steve gently hold him, to plant their lips together and slowly lick Bucky’s apart. Unlike the devouring kisses, these ones linger since there’s no urgency for Steve to get his mouth on something else. There’s just Steve’s arms around Bucky and the world spinning both too fast and too slow.

This kiss is the second kind, Steve wrapping Bucky up in the entryway of his apartment and holding him there for what feels like a century, until Bucky’s dizzy with it. When Steve’s lips finally do stray, they trail kisses on Bucky’s cheeks, behind his ears, across the dimple of his chin. Even his closed eyelids get kisses, fluttering beneath Steve’s soft lips.

Then they kiss again.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Steve says, after what feels like an hour. “Presents and movies and falling asleep snuggled on the couch?”

Well, it sounds nice, but Bucky’s not gonna lie and say he wasn’t very well prepared for something more all evening. That, and he doubts Steve’s sweet, soft plan will survive contact with his Valentine’s Day present for him.

“We can sure try.”

Steve gives him a look of confusion, but shrugs, loosening and untying his tie. On the way to the living room, he pulls off his suit jacket and throws it over the arm of an accent chair, revealing an equally well-tailored white button-down underneath, over which he’s left the tie to hang open around his neck.

Bucky blinks at that image, blinking even harder when Steve undoes a couple buttons before sinking down onto his plush sofa.

Bucky joins him, not bothering to shed any clothing just yet except for the shoes he already kicked off just inside of Steve’s front door.

“Well,” Steve says, focusing on the coffee table, where a gift bag and a small wrapped box sit, both the bag and the paper apple red, the bag topped with sprays of white and pink tissue paper.

“You didn’t have to…”

“Bag first, I think.” Steve grabs it and plops it into Bucky’s lap. “It’s the less, uh, sappy one.”

Bucky smiles. “Now?”

“Mhm.”

Bucky gives the bag a little shake first. It feels like clothes, definitely fabric. He pulls the paper out and looks inside, smiling before he even starts pulling things out. Bucky admittedly fucking loves clothes. And Steve has done a very good job of learning his style, so he knows whatever’s in here is going to be a beloved new part of his fashion rotation.

He reaches in.

On top is an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt in bright red, body-length but with a rough cut bottom hem. In the center, is what appears to be a Coca-Cola logo. Upon further inspection though, the logo of swirling white letters actually says “cock slut.”

“Oh, Stevie, you shouldn’t have.” Bucky pulls out a matching pair of pants, skinny leg red joggers with white stripes down the sides. They’re the same brand as his favorite pants, the ones that are fleece lined and warm but still make his ass pop from a mile away.

There’s one more item in the bag though—a pair of underwear done in a booty short style, complete with stripe details on the side hems and little triangle cutouts for the upper thighs. They seem to have been picked to match the outfit, with red letters on the ass spelling out “lick here.”

“That’s kinda why I got you two presents,” Steve says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “One, I didn’t want you to think I’m only in it for how much I like to eat you out. But also I realized I was definitely picturing how hot you’d look in all of this and that I might be buying them a little selfishly.”

“Pal, I’m literally never gonna complain about you buying me clothes I love even if you are kinda thinking of getting them off of me. Plus, I like that we like to undress each other. Orgasms are good, Steve, especially when they’re coming from someone who both loves you and can raise you over his head.”

That of all things earns Bucky another dopey smile and a soft kiss. Steve slides the box into Bucky’s lap before he pulls away.

“You’re gonna make me regret that I didn’t get you any sweet gifts, aren’t you?” Bucky teases, already finding the seam on the wrapping paper and popping it. It’s the good wrapping paper, the thick sturdy kind stores put on for you. It’s easy to pry the tape off without ripping it.

Inside, there’s a jewelry box, the kind a necklace or bracelet would come in.

“Steve…”

“Just open it.”

So Bucky does, flipping open the hinged lid. Inside, there’s a platinum colored disk stamped with dots and concentric rings, resting on a bed of velvet. The pendant is attached to a simple piece of black cord.

“What…” There’s a tiny square card tucked away inside with Steve’s handwriting on it.

_To the day we met.  
\- Love, Steve._

“This isn’t one of those things where it’s going to be super upsetting if I say I don’t get it, is it?” Bucky asks and Steve smiles and shakes his head. 

“No, I figured you’d need an explanation,” Steve says. “So there’s this company that makes these and I got an ad for ‘em a while back and just knew they’d be something you’d like, so I saved the link for a special occasion. What you do is you send ‘em any date you want, and then they make these pendants with the alignment of the planets on that day.”

Bucky looks down at the disk again, tracing the grooves and dots with his fingertips. Mercury, Venus, Earth… That Steve saw something like this and thought of him and knew to save it.

“God, is it too much for a first Valentine’s Day together present?” Steve asks after Bucky’s been quiet for several seconds.

“Maybe for some people,” Bucky says. “But every relationship moves at a different pace.”

“So…”

Bucky looks up. “I love it, Steve,” he says, leaning in to kiss him, then adding. “I love you.”

“Here,” Steve says, taking the necklace out of the jewelry box and beckoning Bucky to lean forward so he can slide it on over his head, the pendant resting between his pectorals.

“I really am regretting not getting you something super sentimental now though,” Bucky says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a single silver disc in a plastic sleeve. He lays it down on Steve’s palm.

“What’s this?” Steve asks, and Bucky feels his own stomach swoop with excitement.

“I made you a video,” Bucky answers, and there’s no mistaking what those words mean when he says them in that tone of voice, not when Steve knows him so well.

Steve looks at the disk in his hand, then back up at Bucky, and in the span of a second, his eyes go from dopey and loving to positively fucking feral.

“Oh Buck.”

“If you still wanna do movies and soft cuddles, we can always watch it together some other time,” Bucky says.

“What do you want?” Steve asks, glancing down at his crotch where it’s obvious that his cock’s already starting to fill.

“I wanna get dicked down by my boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’ll cue it up then.”

“I’ll change,” Bucky says, pulling the underwear out of the gift bag and disappearing down the hallway. He’d worn fuck-me underwear already, of course, because he could never trust that he wouldn’t let Steve get him naked anywhere anytime even if it wasn’t the plan. But Steve’s gift undies are better.

He makes it back a few moments later in the underwear and his mesh shirt. He left the prosthetic on the dresser in Steve’s bedroom as well. It just wasn’t worth the friction that came with that much sweat and movement. He’d worn it for the video he made Steve and he’d paid for it, even if it had been worth it to have both hands available.

Steve looks much the same as Bucky left him, though he’s sitting in a way that, as his boyfriend, Bucky can tell from a single look means he’s horny as all get out already. Steve is one of the few guys Bucky knows who doesn’t manspread like an asshole. Except for when his blood’s all hot. Then he’ll sit with his legs wide open, as though he’s subconsciously begging for someone to crawl between them and choke themselves out on his cock.

Steve looks from the screen to Bucky, his knees falling wider by an inch or two, his eyes drinking Bucky in from his expertly styled wavy side-part to the erection that is absolutely un-hideable in his new undies. From there, Steve’s eyes track all the way down to Bucky’s bare, thick ankles.

Bucky had checked himself out in the mirror in Steve’s bedroom, and he knows he looks good. He loves the way this new underwear leaves just the bottoms of his cheeks visible beneath the hems. He also loves the way he looks in the black mesh too, how it leaves all his soft curves and hair visible while also softening some of the parts of his body he doesn’t explicitly like.

“Look at you,” Steve says, palming over his cock through his pants. “I’m gonna wrap you around me later. You love it when I do that, right? When I just stand there and move you on my cock, your pretty thighs all tight around my waist, clenching tighter when it feels so good.”

“I’ve never known anybody who can get worked up as fast as you can, Steve, but listen to you go.”

“I’m very excited about this video, Bucky.”

Bucky pads across the hardwood floor and opts to drape himself over the half of the couch Steve’s not occupying, intentionally laying with his legs slightly spread so that Steve can stare at him as lewdly as he wants. And, yeah okay, if Bucky knows some of the angles in his homemade video and how much more it’ll rile Steve up to be able to compare film and reality, well, sue him for wanting to have his cake and fuck it too.

“You can play it,” Bucky says, letting one of his feet slide up under Steve’s thigh.

The title screen is just plain black, with “Happy Valentine’s Day, Stevie. Love, Bucky” in lieu of a movie title. “Play” is the only menu option, the word already highlighted with a white underline.

Steve presses play.

It’s amateur of course as far as the angles go. Bucky sure as shit didn’t hire a videographer. But the film quality on Bucky’s iPhone is still pretty damned good, the natural light coming into Bucky’s small bedroom enough to make everything crisp and clear.  
  
It starts with Bucky in front of the camera, modeling his outfit. He’s got on the shorts he was wearing on the first day they met—the red “thirst trap” shorts that were obviously pretty accurate. Instead of a crop top though, he’s topped it with a white leather harness. He also has on thigh highs, these ones nylon and red lace instead of striped athletic thigh highs.

At the clothing alone, Steve sucks in a sharp breath. The Bucky on screen leans down in front of the camera.

“ _I know you wanted to film us together,_ _and I really wish I had a video of that time we went camping or that time at my place when you broke my coffee table. B_ _ut I’m not exactly gonna film us fucking without your permission even if I think you’d like the end result. So this’ll have to do for Valentine’s Day, huh_ _Stevie_ _?”_

On screen Bucky winks and backs up again, turning his back to the camera and playing with the hem of his shorts, pulling them up higher to show more of his ass, his hips swaying back and forth. Eventually, he makes it a point to lean over and pull them to the side, exposing himself to the camera and lightly toying with his hole before covering it up again.

“Christ,” Steve says, his fingers digging into his own thighs so hard that his knuckles have gone white.

The shorts come off not long after, and Video Bucky spends a good minute just playing with his cheeks, bouncing them with his hands, spreading them teasingly apart. Following that, he turns to the front, finding his nipples between straps of white leather, raking nails and carbide over them, pinching and rolling them between his fingertips.

On the couch, Bucky tries to remember getting himself to let go, to enjoy the moment and react normally, to act as though Steve was right there in the room watching. He’d wanted his moans and sighs to be authentic and real.

He listens to himself exhale a delicate sound on screen while he gives his nipples a pretty hard twist. Not bad.

Next to him, Steve’s breathing picks up, and Bucky smiles. There’s something so satisfying about making the kind of guy who can bench press a truck without breaking a sweat into a horny, panting mess.

On screen, Bucky starts to occasionally give his hard cock a little attention. First it’s a pull here and there while he’s running his hands up and down his body. Then it’s short, sporadic jerking sessions. It had been so hard to make himself stop. He’d even contemplated just getting himself all the way off and picking up filming later. But he’d eventually pulled his hand away.

Next, he shows a bottle of lube to the camera, popping the top with his teeth out of habit even though he still has his prosthetic on. He does use his left hand to squeeze it onto his fingers, before he disappears off screen for a moment to adjust the camera, zooming the lens in tighter on his bed. Steve doesn’t need to know how carefully he’d mapped out that spot and how many weird stills he’d taken of random limbs and out-of-focus genitals before he finally got it right.

All he needs to see is Bucky crawling onto the end of his bed, the camera in tight enough to see the pucker of his hole and his fingers making it shiny-wet with lubricant.

“I’m actually already all opened up,” Video Bucky says. “If you were here right now, you could slip it right in, fuck me with that perfect cock of yours without even having to start slow. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Steve? You like how much of a slut I am just for you, huh?”

Steve inhales a shaky breath, and Bucky watches with a quiet satisfaction when he lets go of the death grip on his thighs, one of his hands skating up to palm at his cock again.

“Oh, Buck,” he says, when on screen, Bucky easily slips three fingers inside of himself, fucking back onto them with a rock of his large body. “That’s it, fuck your hole with them. Make it feel good like you deserve.”

And okay, nothing in the universe could’ve mentally or physically (or fucking spiritually) prepared Bucky for Steve talking back to his video. His breath hitches on the couch, and Steve whips his head around to look at him even while the Bucky on screen moans loud.

“Touch yourself,” Steve says, his eyes between Bucky’s legs instead of on the video. “Get yourself wet for me because…”

“Shh,” Bucky says. “Watch the movie.”

Steve’s face flickers with confusion, but the wet fucking noises coming from his screen, plus a particularly good moan, have him turning his head back to watch. Right on time to see Bucky slide his fingers out of his hole and shift onto his back. Bucky knows, of course, that before’d he’d gotten onto the bed, he’d set a few things off screen. But Steve doesn’t.

The red, white, and blue Cap-Me-Baby vibrator has Steve letting out a strangled laugh.

“Fun fact,” Video Bucky says. “G spot vibrators work just as well on prostates if you work for it.” He grabs it beneath the striped red and white collar and twists, the whole thing buzzing to life. On the couch, Steve watches, enraptured, as he drags the vibrating phallus down his chest, over one nipple and then the other, then down farther still, running it up and down the length of his cock where the vibration has it twitching and leaking.

Video Bucky does that for a good amount of time before he spreads his thighs wide, letting the vibrator run across his perineum, then sliding it deep inside. It goes with no resistance, buried within Bucky within the span of a second.

“I can’t take it as deep as I want it,” Video Bucky says. “No flare at the end. But it feels so good, Steve. It’s like being fucked and eaten all at once.” He moves it in and out of his hole, angles it up so that it makes his entire body zing when it vibrates against his prostate. That gets some pretty obscene moans and swears out of him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck yourself harder,” Steve says, encouraging past Bucky as though he can hear him. And for a second, it’s like he can, his hand moving the vibrator in and out quickly. Then he holds it in again, his arm straining to angle it just-so, his voice cracking with deep, deep groans.

“Fuck yes, Buck. That’s it.”

On the couch, Bucky squirms.

“It feels so good, Stevie,” Video Bucky says. “But I need something bigger. Don’t you think I need something bigger?”

“Need? You _deserve_ something bigger,” Steve mutters. “Deserve to have that hole stuffed tight and full. You deserve everything good in this world, Buck, and that includes all the cock you want.”

Bucky squirms again, and this time Steve reaches over, laying a hand right over his dick and rubbing at it softly.

Bucky’s moan overlaps one from the tape, and he starts to rut into Steve’s hand. On the TV, he pulls another toy from off screen, a large beige silicone cock.

“I love how much you can fit in you,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t even know who he’s talking to. He’s starting to fall out of time with Steve’s hand on him, his eyes looking not to where Steve’s massaging his erection through thin cotton-spandex, but to where Steve’s got his own pants unzipped, his left hand shoved down in them, the fabric over his crotch moving up and down in slow, deliberate waves.

On screen, Bucky starts to shove the massive cock inside of him slowly. Both of Steve’s hands move a little faster.

“How much longer is this?” Steve asks.

“About five minutes, give or take.”

“Come sit in my lap and let me in you?” Steve asks. “Then after I’ll pick you up like I promised.”

“Sorta ruining the end of my video,” Bucky pants, even though he knows he’s gonna agree because, well, hand on his dick. “The idea was for you to watch til the very end, where I tell you I wore a plug on our Valentine’s date so you could have me right away.”  
  
Steve stares at him for a second, doing a strangely sexy impression of a fish out of water.

“Fucking shit Buck, I love you,” Steve says, pulling his hand away so he can fish his cock out of his dress pants. Bucky licks his lips. If he thought he could stand to wait another second, he’d suck on it real good. But he can’t.

In the morning. He’ll suck it in the morning. Or maybe later tonight. Steve recovers pretty fast.

“Take those off and let me see you pull it out,” Steve says, his eyes flitting between Bucky on screen, starting to find a rhythm with the massive cock, and Bucky on the couch, shimmying out of his new undies.

“Wait.” Steve stills his hand before Bucky can grip the flared base of his plug, bright and candy red.

“I told myself you weren’t gonna wear those unless…” Steve leans over, buries his face between Bucky’s cheeks, and runs his tongue around Bucky’s stretched out rim in delicate circles. One time, two times, three…

“Steve.”

“No, no yeah. Hold on.” Steve reaches for the remote and pauses the video before turning back to Bucky. “Take it out. Let me see how open and wet your pretty little hole is.”

Bucky does as he’s told, reaching between his legs, finding the flared base and gripping it tight while Steve sits next to him, breathing heavily. He pulls on the plug slowly, his fingers slipping off, his body sucking the plug back in. He moans quietly, and Steve licks his lips.

“C’mon, Bucky.”

Bucky wipes his fingers dry on his bare thigh and grabs it again. It’s a better grip this time, and he manages to pull it to its widest point, feeling the great big stretch of it.

“That’s it,” Steve encourages. “All the way out.”

It’s easy after that, and it comes free with another light pull, leaving him feeling empty, bereft.

“Christ, Buck, I can see inside of you,” Steve says, easily toying with Bucky’s opening with one finger. “Sopping wet too.”

“I…” Bucky looks at the plug in his hand, and Steve takes it, running his tongue up one side before setting it on the pile of tissue paper abandoned on the coffee table.

“Come here,” Steve says, moving to sit normally on the couch again, the remote next to him on the cushions. His cock sticking out of his pants is the only thing that’s particularly out of place. Well, that and the wet butt plug on the table. And the image of Bucky on screen with his hole stretched wide around a dildo almost as big around as his fist.

Okay, so maybe it’s several things.

Steve offers Bucky his hand, and Bucky takes it, letting Steve help him sit up. Steve gently tugs him into his lap, Bucky’s fat, naked thighs spreading across his muscular ones. He can feel Steve’s cock gently resting against his ass and lower back, and he can feel when Steve rolls his hips, rutting against him experimentally.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Steve says, kissing his neck, then nipping playfully at the skin of his shoulder. Bucky raises himself up, glancing back to find Steve holding his cock steady. It’s easy to sink down onto it, to let it fill up the spaces the plug left behind. And within no time, he’s sitting in Steve’s lap, the two of them casually joined together. Steve pulls the mesh top up and over Bucky’s head, wraps an arm around his middle, and presses play on the movie again.

On the screen, Bucky groans obscenely. In Steve’s living room, Steve nuzzles against Bucky’s nape with his stubble, then says. “Grind on me real slow? Make us both want it so bad we can barely stand it.”

Bucky starts to rock his hips, feeling Steve’s cock dragging along his inner walls, Steve’s arm around him holding him securely.

“Look at how pretty you are when you feel good,” Steve says, watching Bucky fuck himself on the TV screen, the dildo moving in and out faster and faster. He switches to his prosthetic hand, adjusting the fingers so he can get a good grip on the base of the silicone cock. Then he uses his other hand to jerk himself off. “Fuck, look how pretty you are in general.”

Steve follows that with a twist of one of Bucky’s nipples, his own hips moving in tandem with Bucky’s, keeping up the slow, not-enough drag of flesh on flesh.

“This is the best present I’ve ever gotten,” Steve says, sucking a hickey right on the juncture between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. It’ll show if he wears his new sweatshirt. Bucky smiles.

“I like my presents too.” Bucky reaches for the pendant still hanging from his neck.

“They looked good on you. Shame I’ll probably rip them open the next time you wear them, lick your ass til you cry, then fuck you without you even taking them off.”

“Jesus, Steve.”

“You’re so warm on my cock, Buck. So tight.” Steve gives Bucky’s erection a slow pull, and Bucky moans at the same time as he does on the tape. Though the one on tape is deeper, more desperate. “Listen to that, how gorgeous you sound when you’re close.”  
  
Bucky tries to fuck into Steve’s hand but can’t. Steve’s gripping him too loose, letting the drag of his skin do nothing but tease. No friction, just a terrible wanting that Bucky can feel in his belly.

“I love making you sound like that,” Steve says, still kissing Bucky’s bare neck and shoulders, still marking Bucky up because he knows Bucky likes it, that harmless kind of possession. “Almost as much as I love the way your come tastes on my tongue.”

“Jesus fuck, Steve.”

On screen, Bucky’s so so close, both hands moving faster, his hips rolling with the motion of it. He’s to the point where he can barely form words, and he’s started to groan and pant, occasionally adding Steve’s name because even though he’d barely been able to think about the fact that he was making a video, he still always imagines Steve these days when he masturbates.

(Well, okay, and maybe Oscar Isaac. He’s only human.)

“Five, four, three, two...” Steve mutters, and sure enough that’s exactly when the Bucky on screen starts to orgasm, come streaking across the hairy fat of his lower belly. “Pity I can’t lick that off.”

“Well…”

Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s hips, encouraging him to start sliding up and down. On screen, Video Bucky pants through the end of his orgasm. When he comes down, he pulls the straps on the prosthetic loose and takes it off. Then he runs his fingers through the come on his belly, sucking it into his mouth.

“What a good boy you are to do it for me.” Steve encourages him to move faster now, practically lifting and lowering him with his own strength. “How’d it taste?”

“Not as good as yours.”

Steve chuckles in a way that goes straight to Bucky’s dick. God, if people knew how damn sexy and kinky and perfect the man behind Captain America really was, they’d shit.

But this Steve is for Bucky only and not the world, and that in itself feels like a blessing.

On screen, Bucky grabs the camera and pulls it toward his face, showing Steve the last drop of come on his tongue before he swallows it. He finishes the video as warned.

“I hope you enjoyed that Stevie. I know I sure did.” He grins blissfully. “By the way, I’ve been wearing a plug in my ass all night. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The screen goes black abruptly, and then there’s no other noise except for their breathing and the quiet sounds of flesh sliding across flesh and fabric.

“Get up.”

It almost hurts to pull himself off Steve’s cock as much as he’d wanted it in him, but he does, getting to his feet. Steve joins him, wrapping his arms around him from behind and jerking on him for a few seconds while he nips along the side of his neck.

“Hit play again,” Steve says, dropping the remote onto the coffee table. Bucky bends over to get it, feeling Steve’s cock slide between his cheeks when he does. Steve doesn’t enter him though, the fucking tease. He just waits there patiently for Bucky to start the movie over.

“Now come here.” Steve leads Bucky around to the side of the sofa, then sits him on the arm. He’s still fully dressed with the tie hanging around his neck, and it’s doing something to Bucky, the fact that he’s completely nude and Steve isn’t.

He doesn’t have too long to think about it though, one of Steve’s strong arms around his back to keep him from falling onto the couch, the other guiding his cock inside.

“Wrap your thighs around me good and tight,” Steve says. “You know what to do.”

Bucky does know, positioning his thighs right above Steve’s hips, crossing his ankles behind Steve’s back.

Steve lifts him off the couch as easily as Bucky can lift a throw pillow, standing up with Bucky wrapped around him, with Bucky sheathed on his cock.

“Said I was gonna, didn’t I?” Steve presses their foreheads together, claims a kiss—the devouring kind.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me.”

“As always, you want down, just say.”

“Sure, sure.” They both know by now that Bucky never, ever wants down. It hits some kind of deep kink Bucky only half knew he had, the way that Steve can (with his permission) just use him like this, hold him in the air. Steve’s strong enough to do it for as long as needed and to do it easily at that. He’s also strong enough that Bucky never has to worry about falling, never even has to worry about getting tired. He’s just there, enjoying the feeling of Steve moving him up and down his length as simply as Bucky would raise and lower the blinds in his bathroom.

(But not his living room. Those blinds are fucked.)

“You can jerk off if you want,” Steve says. It had taken a couple times of doing this for Bucky to get comfortable letting go of Steve and relying solely on Steve not to drop him, even if he logically knew Steve was strong. Really, really strong.

Now though…

Bucky reaches down between them, wrapping his hand around his cock and rubbing.

“You can go faster. I’m really, really keyed up,” Steve says, his fingers digging into Bucky’s hips and ass.

Bucky jerks himself off faster, letting his head fall back. Steve adjusts one of his hands to keep Bucky from tumbling backwards, turning so he can rest Bucky’s upper back on the arm of the couch, holding his hips up and pistoning into him.

It’s the change in angle that does it. The change in angle and just how fucking horny Bucky’s gotten over the past half hour or so. It’s the love marks on his skin and Steve talking back to his video and the fact that the video’s replaying in the background and his past self is moaning with a vibrator in him and the fact that Steve’s still holding most of his weight.

(And the laughter on the way home and the stupid deconstructed bruschetta and the pendant around his neck and the soft kiss at the door…)

It’s Steve.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, I know. Let me.” Steve knocks aside Bucky’s hand, putting one leg up on the couch beneath the cushions, his leg pushing up under Bucky’s upper thigh to hold him steady. This means it’s Steve’s left hand jerking Bucky off, but it doesn’t matter. Bucky reaches for the tie around Steve’s neck, gathering both ends in his hand and holding on tight, his knuckles going pale.

“Count like before,” Bucky says. “You know, right? When I’m…”

“What if I just look you right in the eye, say ‘I love you so goddamned much Bucky Barnes,’ and then in that voice you love so much just say…” Steve drops his tone, adds that edge of authority that he maybe uses on super villains or maybe only uses for Bucky, then says, “Come.”

Bucky comes, a groan tearing out of his chest, his cock twitching out onto his belly again just likeon the tape.

He knows Steve enough to know that’s deliberate.

When he’s done, Steve lowers them down onto the area rug in front of the couch, shoving the coffee table away to give them room to sprawl there. Then, kneeling between Bucky’s legs, he jerks off quickly. It’s maybe half a minute before he comes too, deliberately aiming right at Bucky’s tummy.

It never takes Steve long to come down, probably because he has the resting heart rate of a comatose whale. But he pants through it quickly, then looks down at the mess they made together.

“Stay still,” he says, and then he leans down and licks a stripe up Bucky’s belly, gathering both of them onto his tongue. Bucky’s already using the tie to tug Steve down into a kiss before Steve can even fully telegraph his intention.

Somehow, despite the come mixing in their mouths, this kiss is the desperate kind.

As always after, Steve’s loving and soft. Tonight it’s a quick wipe down, then a glass of cold water and some grapes that he leaves on the coffee table while he runs a bath in his oversized tub. He comes and gets Bucky when it’s ready, piggybacking him down the hall to the bathroom. Inside, it smells like the lavender bath tea Bucky left there, and there’s another pair of cold drinks and more fruit sitting on the little wooden table that spans the bath tub edge-to-edge.

With a smile, Bucky settles back against Steve in the water, letting Steve trace love notes in no particular language on the skin of his thighs and hips and belly.

“All things considered, this might be the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” Steve says.

“You literally said earlier you’d never had a Valentine.”

“Bucky.”

Bucky leans his head back on Steve’s shoulder and lets Steve feed him a chocolate-covered strawberry drizzled with red and pink.

“Not sure how I’m gonna top this for next year,” Bucky says.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Steve turns his head, gives him a kiss that tastes like holiday indulgence. “But really, Buck, I would’ve been just as happy watching movies and holding you. Don’t get me wrong, you are so incredibly sexy and a nice boy I know would say there’s no shame in telling you that I absolutely love fucking you. But you’re all I need, and you’re worth a lot more to me than all the new and interesting ways we can shoot each other off.”

Bucky picks up a strawberry, this one white chocolate, and holds it up so Steve can bite into it. A tiny fleck of candy falls in the warm water and quickly melts away.

“Still plenty of time left tonight for that,” Bucky says, and Steve nuzzles against the nape of his neck.

“You’re right, there is.” Steve plants a kiss below Bucky’s hairline. “I love you Bucky.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

A beat of silence, both of them just enjoying the closeness and the lavender-scented warm water enveloping them.

“All that said, you cannot imagine how many times I’m gonna pull myself off to that video.”

Bucky snorts.

“Kiss me, you oversized idiot.”

The water’s gone cold by the time the kiss is over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for joining me for this second journey in the DSD universe. 
> 
> Will there be more? Great question. Wish I knew, bud. lol 
> 
> But I will absolutely 100% be writing some more fat characters because wow this is fucking liberating jfc. 
> 
> Here is [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/BiStarBucky)


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